Broken Canvas
by Eliza-Lou-Riley
Summary: Modern AU. Sometimes in life, there is a need to speak out. Whether or not you are willing to allow your voice to be heard. Warnings for mentions of rape, eating disorders and emotional abuse.
1. Chapter 1

**Just to clarify, Henrick is basically Older!Hiccup from HTTYD 2 x3**

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><p>'Come on squirt! Get a move on or you'll be late –<em> again<em>, for the fourth time this year! _Yes_, I've been keeping count! Any responsible older brother would keep count of his sibling's punctuality so he can remind him every time he's-'

'Give it a rest Henrick, I'm coming!'

Monday mornings were the worst, especially in Hiccup's case. His alarm had a nasty habit of forgetting to go off every Monday without fail, resulting in him waking up half an hour behind his usual schedule. After that it was a whirlwind of waking up, cursing out loud, fumbling about for the appropriate attire for school, swallowing some sort of sustenance to last him throughout the day and then racing back up the stairs to brush his teeth.

And per usual, his oaf of a brother was there to comment on his every action.

'Be careful of your braces while you're brushing!' Henrick yelled up the stairs so his voice bounced against each wall and rang into the bathroom, 'and remember to floss – front and back, just like dad taught us in second grade-!'

'Yeah, thanks for the commentary Henrick! It isn't irritating in the slightest!'

The bristles on the toothbrush scraped against the flesh of his gum and he grimaced, spitting out into the sink and finding small specks of bleed pooling into his saliva. Looked like another trip to the dentist was called for. Great.

He met his brother at the bottom of the stairs and removed the paper bag containing his lunch from his outstreched hand, swiftly packing it into his rucksack.

'Uhh, you're welcome!' Henrick called after him as Hiccup scooted into the kitchen again to grab something from one of the cupboards, 'I was up at six making that for you, y'know!'

'If you had woken me up I could have made it myself!' Hiccup grumbled in return, fishing about in the shelves until he located some breakfast bars reserved for such occasions as being late for school, 'why is it that no one in this house deems it important that I get up in the morning?'

'You were up all night working on that art project of yours,' Henrick replied, leaning against the wall, 'I should know – I was the poor sap who had to carry you to bed. Dad told me to let you sleep in a bit. Plus your alarm never goes off anyway!'

Hiccup stuffed a biscuit into his mouth, stepping over the snoozing Elkhound that had splayed itself across the kitchen floor – because Toothless honestly didn't care if he was getting in the way of high-schoolers who were in a rush; he had sleep to catch up on.

'You know, you're gonna burst a blood vessel or something if you keep freaking out like this,' Henrick remarked as he poured himself a glass of juice, swallowing it down in two gulps while Hiccup tore a comb through his dark forest of hair, picking out the knots and clumps, 'it's not like they'll punish you or anything; you only get detention if you're late three times in one week.'

'Which _you_ would know all about,' the comb snagged a particularly large knot, 'you were…_nuugh_…always late!'

'_Easy_, Junior,' Henrick sighed and took the comb off his brother before he ripped all his hair out and gently began to tackle the knot himself, 'come on, lemme put some of that detangling spray in it; that always shifts it.'

'Rick, I haven't got the time for-' Hiccup began but his watch beeped and his statement morphed into a mournful groan, 'oh great, **7:45**. There goes the school bus! _Now _what do I do?'

'Don't get your panties in a twist,' Henrick assured him, 'the school is on my way to work; I'll drop you off.'

'Well, I guess that'll make up for making me late in the first place.'

'You are the most ungrateful little snotrag-'

'_Thank you_ Henrick.'

'Is that it?'

Hiccup sighed, 'thank you…oh best big brother to ever exist on this planet.'

'That's more like it.'

Hiccup jutted his elbows against the table as Henrick retrieved the detangling spray from the downstairs bathroom and began spraying it in the area surrounding the knot. At least this way Hiccup could go to school looking a little more presentable; last time he turned up with a bed head Ruffnut had teased him all morning about it.

'There we go,' Henrick muttered as he finally tamed the knot, smoothing it out so it became a neat lock of hair once more, 'now grab your shoes Short Stack. I'll get the car started.'

Hiccup's sneakers were in Toothless' bed per usual – the dog loved chewing them – but seeing as they were limited edition merchandise from his favourite animated dragon film, he wore them anyway. A car horn blared from outside and he quickly scooped up his rucksack, scratching Toothless between the ears before hopping outside to the driveway.

'Coming, coming!' he tightened his laces and jumped into the back of the car, ensuring he had his first draft for his art project safely tucked between his math book and his geography report before Henrick drew out onto the road.

He had been looking forward to this art project since the beginning of autumn semester. Last year their focus was on sculpting and 3D graphic designs that Hiccup severely lacked all talent in but now they were learning all about portraiture and there was nothing he was more contented with than the dusky soulfulness of a 4B pencil and a few watercolour paints.

Partners were optional in the project but Hiccup usually preferred to work alone for extra credit; he tended to be more solitary with assignments he cared deeply about. Art was his obsession and he needed it all to be perfect; something he would look back on and proudly be able to acknowledge as his own. To point at it and say, "_Yes, that was created by me. Hamish Horrendous Haddock the III, in my high school art class, four desks away from the front board. Here, take my card_."

So he spent most of his time locked away in the warm twilight of his room, excessively experimenting with anatomy, angles and different tones with the huge stack of pencils his dad bought him for his thirteenth birthday. And in his isolation he discovered more about his ambitious passions and his formidable desires in the sixteen years he had been alive than some people ever do in their entire existence. He was an artist and he wanted his work to speak out to the world someday the way his voice never could.

'It's a good drawing,' Henrick commented, eyes still on the road, as he turned the corner towards the school, 'the one you were working on last night, I mean. You got Toothless' eyes spot on.'

'His snout is a little unbalanced,' Hiccup replied grimly, staring out of the window at the raindrops beginning to patter against the glass, 'I'll fix it at school. I have a free period after lunch.'

'It looks great Hiccup.'

'Great isn't going to get me a good grade. It needs to be perfect.'

He heard his older brother huff under his breath but Henrick never said anything in retaliation. He knew his petty critiques on his work were just something he did out of habit – he was a perfectionist after all – but it grated on Henrick's patience and he knew it well.

Maybe it was because Henrick envied Hiccup for staying in school; unlike himself, who had always been a troublemaker, never doing any sort of work or showing any interest for education in general, nor having any respect for his teachers or peers. Stoick had been furious when he dropped out before senior year early; this was evident from the amount of times Hiccup heard them yelling about it downstairs when was trying to do his homework.

They pulled up outside the school just in time for the bus and Hiccup waved at Astrid who was hanging around on the curb, shifting the weight of her schoolbag off her shoulders to avoid stressing her muscles.

'Thanks for the ride,' Hiccup mumbled as he stuffed another biscuit into his mouth and used his free arm to open the door, grabbing his rucksack handle.

'Have a good day, squirt,' Henrick replied and then rolled down the window as his brother began jogging up towards the building, 'And Hiccup?'

The smaller boy paused, turning impatiently back to the car.

'…I love you.'

Hiccup lingered a moment, the biscuit in his mouth slowly becoming a sweet, sugary mush as he flushed at his brother's courtesy with alarming guilt. They made sure they always said that to each other; more frequently so when they argued, even those minuscule disagreements between them over leaving the milk carton out or whose turn it was to bathe Toothless. It was just a force of habit; just so they both remembered that despite everything, they were still brothers, still blood and they meant the world to each other.

'I love you too,' he replied, not dismissively this time and he quickly scampered over to the curb to meet Astrid so they could walk through the gates together.

He was so different to how he used to be as a child. Henrick remembered that kid; that shy and wary wretched excuse of a child who kept behind his father's back in the sight of strangers, cowered into the corner with his books when the other children were out playing, never asked any questions, never argued back. Who clung to his older brother on stormy nights and sobbed into the crook of his neck. They were as thick as thieves back then; Hiccup was his shadow and Henrick his protector.

But age came with its changes. And as Hiccup became more aware of the evils that came along with life, they began to breed hostility into him.

For one thing, he realised that his mother wasn't "on vacation" like he had been told when three.

He began his rebellious stage early and he and Henrick fought more often than they used to – and once he had reached middle school he had a backbone made of steel. Wit and sarcasm were his brothers now. They were what masked his inner torment and kept his head above the water (metaphorically that is.)

But his brother's insecurities weren't what bothered Henrick; everyone had them, himself included. Heck, he was diagnosed as a manic depressive when he was only fifteen years old; he was only just getting his life back on track what with the endless cocktail of drugs he consumed on a daily basis, morning and night to stop him from doing himself in altogether.

What bothered him about Hiccup was that he would never be ready to talk about things. About _anything_.

About their mother, about Henrick's suicidal thoughts, about those times when Stoick would just break down after he came home from work at the factory, tired of it all. Even the topic of Hiccup's sexuality would be a conversation starter, seeing as Hiccup never talked about women or men or anything within that category.

He would never be ready. Not even for his own brother.

Henrick closed his eyes and rested his head against the steering wheel.


	2. Chapter 2

'But I've already established that I'm working on this project _alone_.'

Ms Gothel leaned back in her chair rather impatiently, wondering why there was always some sort of issue whenever she announced to one of her students that she had changed the formation of their projects without informing them, 'I'm aware of that, Mister Haddock. But I did mention at the beginning of this semester that this was meant to be a _collaborated _project. I know you prefer to work independently but seeing as everyone else has found themselves a partner already, it makes a lot more sense for you to make your piece a joint effort as well.'

'But…' Hiccup felt his face filling with colour as he struggled to argue with probably the most stubborn teacher to ever walk the grounds of Burgess High, 'but there's no one left in the class to-'

Oh.

He had forgotten about Jack.

Well, one could make the assumption that he had _deliberately_ tried to forget about Jack.

After all if he so much as went within a ten mile radius of that snow-haired pranking hooligan he had that overwhelming desire to hold that pale hand and never let go.

Jack had these wonderful, baby-soft, neatly trimmed hands with long slender fingers and little sharp knuckles that Hiccup sometimes blissfully envisioned tapping a jaunty rhythm over with his own fingertips whenever he saw them. Jack was this inexplicable character who nobody could properly pinpoint on account of that fact he was solely indescribable; to the point where it was virtually impossible attempting to give a detailed account of his person through meaningless words.

It would be humanly impossible to complete a project with him without Hiccup's concealed nerves getting the better of him and the result being a flustered mess of charcoal and paint.

'But…' Hiccup trailed off and ended the beginning of that sentence with a defeated sigh, 'I just…I work better alone, Ma'am. Just look at my progress report, you'll see that-'

But Gothel held up her hand for silence, 'it's not even nine in the morning yet, Mister Haddock; I'm not in the mood for a dispute about your grade point average at this hour. Now please take your seat and at least _try_ to cooperate with your assigned partner; perhaps help him out a bit with his anatomy, seeing as you're particularly _golden_ in that area.'

He hated that scornful tonality that swamped her voice whenever she felt one of her students was getting way over their heads; Hiccup was good at what he did and he knew it but of course that was always twisted around and perceived as arrogance by those who thought they were _oh so much better_ than himself.

They weren't.

'We both know I'm the best artist in this class,' he said under his breath but loud enough for the woman to hear.

Gothel leered at him vacantly, propping her elbows on the desk surface and threading her fingers together, 'yes…I dare say you might be. But there are sixteen other students in this class and being the best doesn't put you on a pedestal above the rest of them. Now please, take your seat Mister Haddock. And if I find out that you've been neglecting Mister Frost in _any_ sort of fashion, I'll be keeping you after school.'

He was trapped between wanting to leave a crater in her face and actually applauding her for once again reminding him that he was indeed right and she knew it. Ms Gothel worked like that; she pissed you off so you became determined to prove her wrong. Cruel but it guaranteed you an A grade if you kept your chin up and took her verbal bullets with a concrete vest.

He reclined from the desk with his portfolio and walked in dragging steps to the back of the room where Jack was busy finishing the outer layer of the girl in his portrait, of whom Hiccup had assumed was an unknown girlfriend until he looked closer and realised he had seen those features before.

'You're drawing Astrid?'

His words were a faint croak, because this was the first time he had ever spoken to Jack directly. Not that he was shy of course; more of the fact he knew Jack was one of those people where you could never tell if they were being genuine or not. Whether he would smile to your face and then sneer behind your back. Whether you would be his best friend or just another product for his practical jokes.

Hiccup refused to be the product of _anyone_.

'Oh, yeah,' Jack mumbled in reply, blowing off the stray specks of charcoal that dotted the paper, 'don't tell her, I want it to be a surprise.'

Hiccup glanced towards the front of the classroom to ensure Ms Gothel had her head down and murmured, 'I didn't know you two were friends…'

Jack seemed to hesitate slightly, 'uh, yeah, we hang out sometimes. Every Saturday actually.'

Hiccup remembered Astrid mentioning something about them both attending a soccer club down at the community centre in town and nodded, 'oh, I see.'

Jack glanced up at the blonde girl sitting three desks ahead of them, her arm propped on her desk as she carefully shaded the portrait of her pet cockatiel Stormfly with the swiftest flick of her dainty hand, 'she's looking so much better, don't you think?'

Hiccup felt a knot form in his stomach, 'yeah…yeah she is…'

Silence fell between them a moment until the only thing audible was the sound of Jack's pencil scraping against the paper. Hiccup watched each movement with intense curiosity, his attention once again drawn to the tender silk of those pale white hands.

'So, you two are pretty close, huh?' Jack whispered, pulling his classmate out of his thoughts, 'don't mean to pry or anything, you just seem...'

'Yeah, we are,' Hiccup traced his memory back to that blissful part of his childhood where he wasn't completely shut out from the world, 'we've been friends since kindergarten but…well things got tough when she got sick. Hardly got to see her as much and…we're still picking up the pieces really.'

'Ah, I see…'

Well, no wise cracks yet. Perhaps Hiccup had been too quick to make assumptions. But still, he trod on eggshells around people he couldn't work out.

'So, um…guess we're assignment buddies now,' Jack chuckled softly, eyes still on his work.

'Oh, yeah, I guess,' Hiccup replied less than enthusiastically, 'that uh…that's pretty neat,' he motioned to Jack's portrait, 'you've got her spot on.'

'Yeah, not bad for a rookie, huh?' Jack grinned, flashy his pearly white teeth – and suddenly Hiccup felt the ballet dancer in his chest do a spin – 'of course, I've been taking extra classes after school to help but I think it's a pretty ace job so far. Can I see yours?'

Never hesitant to show off a masterpiece, Hiccup slid his illustration out of his portfolio and handed it in Jack's direction, 'the outline needs a little work but I'm pretty proud of it.'

He couldn't understand that slight twist in his gut as Jack's blue eyes scanned the portrait of his dog; drinking in every tiny detail of hair, the texture of the mutt's coat and his large, thickly sketched eyes. He had never been sceptical of showing people his work before. Why should now be any-?

'Not bad.'

Hiccup double took a moment, wondering if he had heard right, 'excuse me?'

'Not bad,' Jack repeated, handing the portrait back, 'could use a little more shading around the eyes and your anatomy is a little off but overall, worthy of an A grade.'

_Not bad._

**_Not bad?_**

This statement from Jack blew all his previous compliments out the window, 'in what way is the anatomy off?'

Jack looked a little taken back by this demanding question but diverted his eyes back to the portrait anyway, 'well, see here,' he pointed to the outline of the dog's snout, 'you need to make your strokes just a_ little_ smaller. It helps me to use a 5B pencil for the outline, makes it a little clearer. As for the anatomy, the shape of his head is a tiny bit uneven. All you have to do it rub out the outer layer and refill it-'

Hiccup seemed to zone out while Jack was speaking. He was stunned. No one had _ever_ critiqued his art. It had always been something he had been flawless at, with no room for improvement; something he could just _do_ and everyone would love it regardless. But here was Jack, the happy-go-lucky trouble-maker actually faulting his work as if he was Frida Kahlo herself.

His lips moved soundlessly_._ He felt the hot tongues of embarrassment fill up in both freckled cheeks. It was so obvious now that he looked at it; the faint tilt of the dog's head that was so unbalanced when you looked hard at its details. Suddenly he was ashamed of his work; he wanted to crumple it into a ball and stamp on it, obliterating all those exhausting hours he spent slaving away at his workplace trying to make it perfect.

A cold, dark voice hissed at the back of his head, '_what does he know? This is Jack Frost. The prankster, the layabout. What does __**he**__ know about art?_'

Oh, who was he kidding? It _was_ uneven. He had said so to Henrick in the car and he was a fool to ever think someone with a trained eye would miss it. Clearly Jack possessed more of an artistic taste than he had anticipated and he began to understand what Uncle Gobber meant now about judging a book by its cover.

'You okay?' Jack threw him back into the void of life, 'you look a little flushed.'

'What? Oh yeah...' Hiccup propped his elbows up on to the table surface, plunging his chin into his palm, 'just peachy.'

Needless to say the rest of the lesson passed in awkward silence, with Hiccup silently singeing over his creation as he begrudgingly tore an eraser around the outline of Toothless' head until he was satisfied it was balanced out.

Damn everything. Damn _Jack_.

Who the hell did he think he was? His words spiralled around Hiccup's brain like a thousand buzzing flies and he felt hot all over; a burning, lava-like heat flooding into his face, his eyes, his legs, both his arms...

He _loved_ it.


	3. Chapter 3

The entire school day seemed to completely shut down from Hiccup's perspective and suddenly there was little he could concentrate on other than the tap dancer in his chest that was currently spinning into a frenzy.A never ending spiral of thoughts seemed to infest his brain and speech became impossible, so when Punzie Carona leaned over her desk to request the use of his ruler, her only response was a flurry of garbled words and empty sentences.

Astrid worried that he was sick. Or perhaps an asthma attack was coming on, though he begrudgingly refused to go and see the nurse about it in fear of being sent home. So he floated around in his own little world until the afternoon drew in, blocking out attempted conversations and successfully slamming into lockers nearby.

'Sick?' Merida exclaimed after the school bell announced the termination of all studies and the students flocked into the corridors like sheep, 'ach, he aint sick! There's only one parasite that's infecting _this_ lad!'

'Oh really, Red-Head?' Snotlout queried, fingering one of her curls and then tearing his finger away to watch it bounce, 'what's that then?'

Merida grinned like a banshee, '_Unrequited love_.'

A peevish roll of the eyes came from Hiccup's direction as he stored the last of his books into his locker; but his lips pulled up fondly at his classmate's tomfoolery and he retorted over his shoulder as he turned the key in his lock, 'and of whom do I share this "_unrequited love_" with, Miss Dunbroch?'

Merida's blue eyes narrowed and suddenly she reminded him of the chilling days of fall. She was the bearer of all mischief; the black sheep in their circle of friends who looked like a feral cat yet walked like a queen, 'I don't know yet, Haddock. But I will. Remember, a Dunbroch has their eyes everywhere.'

'Yes, but not at the back of their heads,' the tip of Hiccup's tongue found it's way between his lips and he scrunched his nose at her, 'you still up for Halo 3 tonight? One to one?'

'Only if you're prepared to lose!' she declared as her elbow met his ribcage, 'you walking home with us then?'

'Sorry, can't. I have to stay behind to work on my portrait.'

'But I thought you finished it already.'

Hiccup shifted his portfolio loosely under his arm, 'It, uh...has a few _inconsistencies_ I need to deal with.'

Merida shrugged, 'fair enough. I'll ring you tonight then,' and she nudged Snotlout to follow her, 'c'mon you great lout, I need a supersized slushie after all that long division!'

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><p>The art block was awkwardly located between the cafeteria and the theatre room - which meant having to battle your way through a sea of hungry students every lunchtime in order to find your way back to civilisation. Fortunately the school day had ended and the only ones loitering about were the lacrosse team outside the gym and a few members of the chess club who had lost their way to the main hall.<p>

'Hey Ruff,' Hiccup greeted the tall, finely curved girl who was leaning against her stick impatiently, 'only four weeks left until the championship, huh?'

'It _sucks_,' Ruffnut huffed in response, 'ever since Astrid got sick, our team's gone downhill.'

'Yeah, she misses the sport,' Hiccup sighed, 'but she can't play anymore, Ruff. It's bad for her-'

Ruffnut waved her hand at him, 'I know, I know. It just couldn't have come at a worse time. Everyone's just...I dunno, lost their spirit in the game. Heather's always skiving, Anna from senior year keeps getting knocked in the head with the damn ball-'

'Ever thought that maybe you guys should spend more of your time working as a team rather than trying to do your own thing?' Hiccup enquired with a cocked brow.

Ruffnut gave him one of her lopsided grins, 'oh come off it, Fishbone. _You're_ one to talk. I heard you practically pulled a hissy fit with Gothel today because she made you pair with that Jack Frost.'

Oh come _on_.

'I wouldn't call it a hissy fit - more of a casual demand,' Hiccup replied smoothly, 'how did you find out about that anyway?'

'Aster told me,' Ruffnut twirled her stick between her fingers before resting it across each shoulder, 'and apparently you spent the whole of class ogling Mister Frostbite until your eyes were set to pop out.'

This time, Hiccup felt himself flush, 'I wasn't.'

'You're a shit liar, you know that?' she gave a loud, husk chuckle, 'I can't say I blame you really. After all, every kid in the district knows Jack Frost,' she gazed off into the distance dreamily, 'I wish _I_ knew him better at least...'

Hiccup's lips contorted into a smirk, 'if that's the case, I can get him to drop you a line next time I see him.'

'If you ever wanna have kids, I strongly suggest you don't,' she reached out her stick and poked him in the crotch, 'what you sniffing around here for anyway? On the hunt for your Prince Charming?'

'Trying not to flunk art class more like,' was his reply as he extended one figer to carefully bat her stick away from that delicate area, 'I need to get a move on though; Gothel only sticks around until four.'

'Well, if you see Astrid at any point, ask her if the doctor could fix up her spine quickly so she can get her ass back on the team and stop us from completely screwing up in the finals.'

Hiccup's smile faded and for a moment his expression went dark, 'that's not funny, Ruff.'

She seemed to singe under his gaze, 'I never said it was funny. It's not funny at all. Anything but.'

'Astrid would play if she could,' Hiccup muttered and he felt his chest go tight at the memory of holding the girl while she sat clutching the results from her scan in her trembling hands, 'but ever since...ever since that...' he trailed off, hisdesire to finish that sentence expiring, 'what about that new girl who joined from the 9th grade?'

'Who, Tip? Oh yeah, she's got the moves and all but nowhere near as good a defence as Astrid did,' Ruffnut ran a tongue over her bottom lip, 'it isn't the same...it'll never be the same.'

A long, dragging silence fell between them, while the other girls subconsciously chatted away in the background. Hiccup shifted his rucksack over his shoulders, 'I know you'll knock them dead at the finals. We have the best lacrosse team in the city.'

'Yeah - winning by the skin of their teeth each and every match,' Ruffnut grunted and turned as the shrill falsetto of a whistle was heard nearby, 'well, there's coach. Better get moving. See you around, Haddock.'

'Try not to break any bones - or anyone else's while you're at it.'

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><p>Having finally reached the stairs leading up to the art room, Hiccup took his time with every step, despite his knowledge of Gothel's impatience when it came to after school activity. His mind traced back to Jack's hands and that silent yearn to hold onto them began to emerge again. He wondered what those hands could do. Whether they felt strong or soft. Whether they trailed about teasingly or loving caressed in warm, bold strokes like the tip of a 3H.<p>

Every movement of his legs suddenly became slow and dragging. He wondered if Jack ever thought of him the same way; thought about his crooked teeth or his freckles or the way he always smudged charcoal across his face absent-mindedly after every art session. Simply out of curiosity, he wondered if he had ever crossed Jack's mind in the years they had been associated with each other; never really talking directly but always being there, trapped in the same world and unsure of what to say.

He reached the top of the stairs and passed the remaining lockers that littered the corridor - only to collide with Astrid who was coming out of the girl's bathroom.

'Oh God,' his hands whipped up to steady her as if she was about to crumble into dust, 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...' he took a moment to catch his breath, 'are you okay?'

'I'm _fine_,' Astrid replied in a heated manner, though he could tell he had knocked the wind out of her quite a bit, 'just gimme a moment...'

She hated being fussed over; treated as if she was something delicate, easy to break. But the damning truth was that she _was_. Hiccup had almost forgotten the Astrid he knew as a child; the squat, tough, meaty frame of a girl who could swing a punch without grazing a knuckle. The gymnast. The sports fanatic. The kid who could do anything and did everything.

But she couldn't do any of that now. She was a mere stick of the girl Hiccup once knew.

'Why are you here anyway?' he quizzed as she reclaimed her satchel from the floor despite his offer to lift it for her, 'I thought you had a hospital appointment.'

'That's next week,' Astrid replied, 'I'm just...trying to catch up on some studying.'

'_You_ studying?'

'Well, it couldn't hurt. Seeing as I spend half my life hooked up to machines now.'

Hiccup had an underlying sense that she wasn't being completely honest with him. But he didn't like to argue with Astrid. She may have been weightless but she could probably still break his arm if she wanted to.

'Have fun with your books then,' he tucked his portfolio back under his arm and moved to walk past her, 'I'll be done by four so I can walk you home if you want?'

'More like I walk _you_ home,' she replied over her shoulder and he heard a grin in her voice, 'see you at four.'

He wondered if he should go with her. Just to keep her company; or maybe invite her to study at the back of the art room while he worked on his portrait. It beat having to sit in a room alone - though Astrid had become very solitary since she was discharged from hospital, so perhaps her isolation from the world was a deliberate attempt to get a few measly hours of peace.

He noticed she had dropped something when they ran into each other; a small laminated flier - obviously created by an amateur - that he had seen posted around a few rooms in the school since the beginning of semester. It was black all over; save for the large, bold writing in the center.

* * *

><p><strong>GOT A PROBLEM BUT DON'T KNOW WHO TO TALK TO?<strong>

**THEN COME ON OVER TO THE 'SPEAK OUT CLUB'**

**EVERY FRIDAY AFTER SCHOOL IN THE DRAMA ROOM**

**DON'T SUFFER ALONE.**

**COME IN AND SPEAK OUT!**

* * *

><p>The butterflies nestled in Hiccup's stomach broke free and began to flutter as he read the small print, '<em>hosted by Jack Frost<em>.'

Perhaps it was all some sort of social experiment. That or another prank - lure in a bunch of vulnerable kids, get them to trust you and then let the world know of their private lives just for a laugh.

But even that seemed low for Jack Frost. He was a prankster but Hiccup had an aura of doubt that he had a single essence of cruelty in his nature.

Still, he was one to be cautious. After all, there was no way _he_ needed to talk about his problems. He could handle them himself. They were no one else's business. The only reason he was slipping the flier into his pocket was so it didn't clutter up the hallway, that's all.

Gothel didn't say much when he entered the room but he quickly found a seat and began re-constructing the anatomy of Toothless' head while his thoughts dragged on, centred around that damned kid and his royal blue hoodie. What was it that made Jack Frost so significant in his mind? Why were there so many questions that Hiccup felt he had yet to answer about the kid who never even talked about himself, who everyone knew but didn't know _about_? The kid who loved life, yet wasted it aimlessly on pranks and childish humour?

Why would Jack Frost be the way he was and still somehow be willing to take the time to listen to the problems of others?

Hiccup sighed, head aching from his own inward battle with himself and dug around in his rucksack until he pulled out the paper bag containing the lunch he hadn't got round to eating. There was a carefully made cream cheese and jelly sandwich, a small box of raisins, a blueberry muffin and his favourite grape drink.

Hiccup peeled off the post-it note that had been stuck onto the cling film protecting the sandwich and felt his eyes go moist.

**_I hope you enjoy your lunch Bro - Rick x_ **


	4. Chapter 4

'I'm home!' Hiccup declared as soon as he was through the door, kicking it shut behind him and heaving his rucksack onto the table in the hallway, 'Dad?'

'In the kitchen!' came Stoick's gruff reply and his son found him rooting about the medicine cabinet, taking out individual pill bottles, examining them and then putting them back, 'Henrick forgot to take his medication this afternoon, I can't find the damn thing.'

Hiccup groaned internally; this always seemed to happen whenever he wasn't there. Sometimes he felt like his Dad really didn't have a clue what he was doing in regards to his older brother but hastily reminded himself that out of all of their lifestyles, Stoick had it the toughest.

Toothless was pacing around the counter, perhaps wondering if there was a chance of being fed if he paced long enough; though trying to get any sympathy from Stoick would be like chewing a rock. The man was strict in regard to the dog's diet; and it was vital that he lay off the snacks now that he was padding about on only three paws and a prosthetic.

Hiccup never really liked to think about what may have caused Toothless to lose his leg. He was a rescue dog, adopted into the family as a pup but no one really knew the cause of the missing limb; the vet suggested it may have been cut off but that wasn't worth thinking about. The very brutality of it had Hiccup's stomach churning. So when the pup grew older, to save it spending the rest of its life hobbling about, one of Stoick's friends made up a prosthetic for him.

'I'll take it up Dad,' Hiccup said quickly, taking note of the various grocery bags littered on the table, 'you get the food sorted out.'

He was always wary when he entered Henrick's room; being sure to wait outside the door a moment in case his brother was crying or throwing a fit. But all that came from inside was silence, so he knocked once and opened the door. The room was completely still, save for the large lump cocooned beneath the bedsheets on the bed in the far right corner. No doubt he had probably been there since he got home from work.

'Hey you,' he nudged the bulge, securing the pills in one fist and holding a glass of water in the other as the beast growled and slowly emerged from its lair, 'I know you hate doing this but it's for your own good, slugger.'

Henrick grumbled something inaudible but eventually pulled his tired body out from beneath his duvet, running a hand through his hair as Hiccup placed the glass of water into one of his hands, 'I fucking hate you, you know that?'

'Yep,' Hiccup handed over the pills along with it and waited until his brother had thrown his head back and swallowed them both before continuing, 'you've told me plenty of times before.'

'Fucking...' Henrick grumbled, face tensing up as he gulped the rotten things down, 'what time is it?'

'Almost five.'

'Crap...'

'Go back to sleep. You know it's important you rest. I'll bring dinner up for you when it's ready.'

'Make sure you bring up the salt as well.'

Hiccup rolled his eyes and snatched up the empty glass, 'I'll make sure to fill it with pepper like I did last time.'

'Do that and you'll be going to school tomorrow with a thoroughly beaten ass.'

Upon returning to the kitchen, Hiccup immediately began sorting out the various jars and boxes into the kitchen cabinets while his father went on a scavenger hunt trying to get their evening meal sorted.

'Good day at school, lad?' Stoick rumbled over his shoulder, raking about in the cupboards for the correct size of saucepan, 'how's the extra classes going? You still kicking some artistic rump?'

'Not exactly,' Hiccup felt the sides of his lips twitch upwards, 'but the classes are really going well. It'll definitely be helpful for-'

He cut off with a wince as the pots exploded from the open cupboard in a deafening crash as soon as Stoick opened it, sending Toothless scuttling under the table.

'Whoops,' the elder man chuckled, rubbing the bump that formed on the base of his skull, 'well, at least I found what I was looking for!' he brandished the saucepan in both hands and placed it on the stove, 'I found a new vegetarian recipe book for Henrick. It says organic vegetables are good for the heart so I bought some at the store today. I'm making butternut squash risotto and tropical smoothies for dinner.'

'But Henrick isn't a vegetarian.'

'I know but the food will be good for him. All that fast food and cheap microwave rubbish won't keep him regular.'

Hiccup nodded in understanding, 'good luck trying to convert him.'

'He'll bloody well eat it or starve!' Stoick said over his shoulder as his head disappeared beneath the counter a moment to search for the chopping board, 'get the butternut squash out for me, will you Hiccup?'

In all honesty, Hiccup was exhausted and cooking was the last activity he wished to participate in - what with the risk of clumsily slicing his fingers in the process - but it was unfair to leave Stoick to his own devices, what with his track record of burning their evening meals. So he slid off his sneakers and grabbed one of the aprons hanging on the hook nearby.

'Did work go alright today?' he asked as he personally took on the task of dicing thyme leaves on one of the cutting boards while Stoick warmed up the oven.

'Ach, you know,' Stoick grumbled, 'same as usual. Boss still has the brains of a donkey.'

'You're good at your job,' Hiccup insisted - when it came to construction work, Stoick was practically a master, 'I don't see why he's so critical.'

'He's a man who has too much time on his hands and a wife who's sleeping with his brother.'

Hiccup almost sliced his thumb off, '_really_?'

'Aye,' Stoick sent him a wink over his shoulder, 'but don't go telling anyone I said that now, laddie.'

His son nearly cackled, 'so there's scandal in the workplace?'

'There's always some sort of drama. You never really leave high school, Hiccup. Your body grows but your spirit will always be the same,' Stoick grunted as he battled with the butternut squash, 'how's Astrid by the way?'

'She's...coping. Back in hospital next week for some checks.'

'That poor girl.'

'Yeah...I do my best, you know? Make sure she's eating lunch properly, give her a hand up the stairs but she won't have any of it.'

'You can't nurture the independent, son,' Stoick practically broke a sweat tearing his knife through the thick skin of the vegetable, 'she wants control of her life again. Be easy on her.'

'I know but it's hard sometimes,' Hiccup sighed and placed the chopped up tyhme into the casserole dish, 'I get so frustrated with her. I forget that it's not her fault; that it's the eating disorder making her do this, meddling with her thoughts. But still...I get frustrated. I feel like she's just given up which isn't the Astrid I know...'

'It's been hard for everyone, Hiccup,' Stoick assured him as he filled the pan with water at the sink, having practically demolished the squash across the counter, 'just give it time. Time can be a great healer, you know.'

That was the foulest lie he had ever heard leave his father's mouth.

Once the squash was cut and the pan brought to a boil, Hiccup diverted his attention back to the flyer stuck in his pocket, wondering if it was worth his time bringing up the idea with Stoick. His father was a busy man. He very rarely had time to wait about and listen to the drawling of a sixteen year old boy who was sexually confused, mentally unbalanced and had the emotional capacity of a prawn sandwich. That's why Hiccup kept a stiff upper lip; kept his worries to himself; concealed them into a tiny, insignificant ball of nothing. The last thing he wanted to be was a parasite; the mosquito of the Haddock family.

_Best to tell him at dinner_, he assured himself and emptied the mangoes out into the blender.

* * *

><p>'Did I put enough seasoning in?'<p>

'It's great Dad,' Hiccup replied in quite possibly the least enthusiastic tone he could unintentionally muster, stirring his food about on the plate with little effort to put any in his mouth.

It wasn't a bad dish. A few hiccups here and there - no pun intended - but otherwise tasty and extremely nourishing in comparison to the takeaways the family had become accustomed to ordering.

'I could have used more salt...' Stoick mumbled mostly to himself, seemingly uninterested in his food as well, 'never was one for cooking me. Your Grandmother was the culinary genius. Tried to teach me when I was wee but...ach, never could get my head around the thing. Your mother was just as useless as I-'

He cut off, correcting himself and Hiccup positively cringed in his seat. He hated the way his mother was a void within the household; how the very mention of her name was like uttering a profanity, something forbidden to human speech otherwise the speaker would be forever cursed. He took this moment to quickly throw up what he had been desperate to say as soon as he walked through the front door; anything if it meant getting off the personal subject of she who must not be named.

'I found one of these in school today,' he carefully withdrew the flyer from his pocket and slid it across the table surface in Stoick's direction, 'I know it probably wouldn't be any use at all but I thought it looked interesting. What do you think?'

Stoick set down his fork with a clatter and took up the little laminated card, propping his glasses down onto his nose so he could examine the writing, 'Speak out club, eh? Do you think you would be comfortable with that sort of thing?'

'I dunno...' Hiccup reached for his glass and took a sip of his smoothie, finding it to be oddly delicious, 'I mean, it could be beneficial for me to talk about a few things.'

'Like what?'

'You know...schoolwork and everything...'

'Hiccup,' Stoick placed the flyer back on the table top, 'I may not be the most observant parent in the entire world but I know for certain that school is the least of your worries. All your grades are positive; your work is immaculate and you know yourself that you completely wipe the floor with your talent in comparison to the other kids. So it can't be work that you'd want to talk about, would it?'

Hiccup sometimes forgot that his father - the man who had raised him since birth - possibly knew him better than he could ever know himself.

It still didn't seem the appropriate time to mention his lack of sexual desire. Not to mention it would probably be enough to make them both lose their appetites permanently. He was tactful in that regard.

'I was thinking that maybe I could talk about mom.'

He felt the warm pangs of discomfort swamp into his gut the minute his father's body tense and Hiccup silently wondered if there was any chance in taking the words back before Stoick finally replied, 'aye...I figured you would want to mention that.'

Surprised and a little hesitant, Hiccup continued, 'I know it's not something you like to discuss...and seeing as we can't afford a therapist-'

'We can always get you one Hiccup. We have one for Henrick, we can get one for-'

'No Dad. You had to work yourself into the dirt to pay for Henrick's therapy. He needs it more than I do.'

It was damning information but unfortunately the truth and Stoick didn't test his youngest's patience any further. His head slowly rose and dipped in a solemn nod.

'You're not a babe anymore, Hiccup. Your life is your own; if you think this will benefit you, then go ahead and take the bull by the horns.'

'And if it doesn't help?'

'Then at least you tried.'

* * *

><p>The knot in his stomach had loosened just a little. Mostly with the knowledge that Stoick understood; that this wasn't something he had swept under the rug like a lot of other issues Hiccup had addressed to him in the past. Still, he knew the main reason for that was because Henrick had been mostly inactive that night. He resented his brother for that; for constantly stealing the attention but frequently reminded himself that Henrick never asked for it; never asked for this damned depressive state in the first place. It was all a trick of the mind, a result of childhood trauma and it was nobody's fault.<p>

It would be a task in itself getting Henrick to take so much as a bite of the meal Hiccup and his father had taken so much valuable time to prepare. When he was sick and underweight, he had been permitted to eat whatever he wanted, prompting him to become addicted to fast food and cheap junk you got down the store for a buck. Though there was little chance of his weight increasing, his poor diet and lack of proper nutrition contributed to his mood swings. There was no question about it; healthier supplement was in order. But letting go of old habits would be easier said than done.

He carefully juggled the tray up the stairs, careful to mind in case Toothless had decided to take a nap on the landing and blend in with the pitch black again and just managed to push the door open with his hip without upsetting the mango smoothie. Henrick was asleep again, huddled in a ball beneath his blankets as usual, so Hiccup set the tray on his bedside table and gently tugged at his arm, 'Rick? Hey Rick, c'mon, I brought you dinner.'

A grumble and Henrick dragged himself out from beneath the warmth of his cocoon, eyeing the contents of his platter wearily, 'what's this?'

'Butternut squash risotto,' Hiccup replied, grabbing the salt shaker, 'see? I remembered.'

His brother's nose wrinkled unattractively, 'I don't want it.'

'You need to eat,' Hiccup said with a roll of his eyes, taking a forkful of food and shoving it under Henrick's nose, 'it tastes good; just give it a try!'

'I want a hot dog.'

'You know you can't have hot dogs anymore. They're not good for you or your mood. This will help, it's organic.'

'It's _shit_,' Henrick replied vulgarly and shoved his head beneath the covers again.

Hiccup flung the fork down onto the plater sulkily and crossed his arms over his chest, 'you're acting like a baby! You need to start balancing out your diet more now that you're staying in bed more often, otherwise your mood will never improve! You want to get better, don't you?'

The form beneath the bedclothes began to tremble, 'fuck you...'

Allowing his temper to settle, Hiccup pulled back the covers and rested his forehead on Henrick's cheek, hand reaching up to brush his hair as he allowed him to sob everything out; every tear and sour profanity that _wasn't his fault_. This was one of the lesser fits but frightening nonetheless and the last thing he needed was for Henrick to realise how vulnerable his pillar of strength actually was.

'Thank you for making my lunch today, Rick,' he murmured into the elder boy's ear, 'I know you didn't have to do it, but you did anyway. Thank you,' he placed a light kiss on the shell, 'thank you...'

He waited until the rhythmic grunts of Henrick's sobbing had quietly died down before shifting the tray closer to the bed, 'want me to help you with this?'

Stubbornness was in the Haddock's blood; Henrick's bottom lip stuck out like a child's waiting to cry but Hiccup took this opportunity to pinch his nose so his mouth fell open and quickly shoved a forkful of food inside. His brother snarled; ground the meal between his teeth and then his cheeks went pink.

'Well?'

Henrick swallowed and shrugged both shoulders, 'still think it could have used more salt.'


End file.
